Pawn Among Wolves Ch. 15

Amy Waring, chief physician of the continent, had just flown within the range at which she could convey to him. Mac had called to her for advice too, while overhauling the raging werewolf, but had abruptly cut the connection when the old beagle had been let out for a last sniff before bed.

The Senshal wasn't under Fealden's flying veto because her helicopter had been with her while she was working in the far south, making it almost impossible that it had been sabotaged, and she had plenty of spare fuel aboard.

Now Dr Waring was on her way. Retrieving a werewolf before the humans realised what he was was vital; the only other method to prevent them finding out was to kill Adam while he was in human form. And Amy was almost as reluctant to resort to that as Mac.

Thanks, he replied brusquely, then pulled his shields tighter, tuning her out.

Smelly smell? Mac queried the beagle again urgently. He caught a vague impression of tyre rubber and asphalt and something chilling which unhinged the dog's spine while he stuck his nose into it in an attempt to show the Alpha. Mac smothered the growl which was choking him; no petrochemicals, but some kind of tyre: a wolf vehicle? And Argen-lined: no wonder he hadn't been able to scent Gemma even faintly, once she was inside. Someone from a very powerful pack.

Mac felt a different shimmer run down his spine, lip lifting again in a silent challenge.

He met the impotent, miserable fury in his mate's father's eyes in the reversing mirror with an equal, wretched glare of his own. Stronger. Because, unlike Dan Smith, he knew that this was deliberate. And aimed at him. But who?

And how was he going to chase the fuckers down while he had to babysit her little brother?

Mind flashing with a cold, sharp shot of an insane idea, Mac's eyes narrowed abruptly. He sat in silence as the car purred swiftly through a network of tree-lined country roads, deathly still. Then abruptly the Alpha leaned forward and began to whisper into the ear of the Argen-shielded werewolf lying across his lap. Adam grew quieter as fresh, cool words slowly penetrated his seething brain.

***

Dr Waring sighed as she carefully lifted her air ambulance from the pad on the hospital roof into the clouded grey sky, a little guiltily saluting the human couple standing forlorn in the whipping wind, arms around each other. It had not taken a huge amount of time to persuade them to agree for Adam to be admitted to her hospital on the west coast, to join the experimental programme to combat late-stage rabies. Before she had arrived, the attending doctor had broken the news of their son's chance of survival without it, and she had explained that time was vital.

She had hated having to lie to them. It was not that the rabies programme didn't exist, or that she wasn't a senior consultant attached to it. But their son didn't truly have rabies, just something very close. To which there was no cure. Adam had already turned.

The physician glanced over her shoulder, the legs of the now quiet werewolf strapped into the stretcher just visible in the corner of her vision. He had quieted as soon as his parents were out of sight and scent, no longer tormented by the residue of the order to kill them. Amy scowled as she pondered where to take him. Picking up the poor kid had seriously delayed her already urgent schedule, packed with preparations for the escalating war.

Dr Waring growled softly to herself as she straightened out the controls, keyed in the bearing and altitude, and flicked on the autopilot. Mackeld? she conveyed searchingly. She had seen the Alpha only for seconds at the hospital; he had delayed his departure until she had arrived by taking a completely needless anti-rabies shot, but had left to search for his mate as soon as he had handed the were over to her.

"Yes?" she heard a soft voice answer inside her headset, and nearly had a heart attack.

Her chest was still pounding painfully as she spun to face the tall, tawny figure approaching from the rear of the cabin. The Mackeld was carefully checking over a parachute held between his large, human hands. There was a spare set of headphones over his ears - the fifth set she hadn't been able to find while fitting a pair for the werewolf.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she cursed him. Then, distracted, the physician asked curiously, "Is this the fabled scent-masking drug in action?"

The Alpha's lips curled faintly, and he paced closer. For some reason, her spine tingled and blood began to seethe with tension. Pity he had chosen a lifemate. There was so much purpose in that lithe lope.

"Yes," the Mackeld replied softly. "Gemma's. It only works for a short while, but long enough." So saying, he pulled the physician up out of her seat, spinning her so she was facing forwards, and slung the parachute around her shoulders.

Amy laughed, her skin tingling where the simmering male touched her. "Thinking of stealing my chopper, Mackeld? Dream on. I am a senshal, and your pack is miles away. I need this vehicle to prepare the field hospitals for the war."

She was twisting easily out of his grip as she spoke, then stilled abruptly in surprise as a second set of arms locked around her torso from behind, pinning her elbows to her sides. Her brain jolted as she caught a very faint, fragile whiff of wolf blended with the human scent of her new assailant, and the realisation that the werewolf was free and this close unhinged her spine briefly. Amy snarled, wrenching and twisting nimbly to free herself of the grip, but her distraction allowed the Mackeld to thread one of her arms into the parachute and spin her again to hold her immobilised with her back to him, when he murmured quietly, "The scent-mask works only partially on weres - but I was counting on you not registering a human as a threat; we rarely do."

Then he added to Adam, "Put her other arm in. I will hold her, but watch the claws."

Damn, Amy cursed to herself silently, struggling against the implacable grip of the Alpha holding her, battering against his unyielding mental shield. Where the hell did he get all this power?

The pair of hijackers had managed to fasten the parachute when suddenly the Mackeld was driven to the floor with a grunt of pain, head roaring with the rebuke yelled at him.

Fealden Wolflord.

Amy began to rip open the parachute fastenings, backing up away from the pair, cheeks flushed furiously red. It had been damned embarrassing for a Senshal, backed by every damn phys on the continent, to have to call for help against a single, unmelded Alpha with only one measly werewolf to help him. The blood was pounding so hard in her ears that she barely heard the hoarse words that the wolf on the floor gasped.

"Touch me with the rim of your cap: but hold onto it yourself too."

Angrily trying to loosen the over-tight buckles, the Senshal recognised too late what the short phrase might mean and glanced up, startled, to see the Mackeld leaping back toward her with the werewolf in tow, clinging to his arm: Damn.

Seconds later the physician was immobile again on her back on the floor behind the seats, glaring up at the Alpha as he carefully checked over her chute. Mac was holding her easily now that he didn't have to dress her as well, one hand imprisoning both of hers above her head, one leg hooked to hold her down while his face was frowning seriously down at the fastenings he was re-tightening.

"Damn, I wish I was your mate," the female wolf snarled. And then she flinched, wincing away from the look in his eyes as he lifted them fleetingly to meet hers. She stilled. Oh.

"Mackeld, the best thing we can do to find her is to pursue Tzo; it doesn't look like they're going to kill her. This is insane, you can't steal my chopper. What do you think you're doing?"

The tawny wolf wasn't listening. Her voice sharpened.

"We are at war, Mackeld! The Wolflord is furious, even if you've blocked him out for now. Three Alphas dead! We need this, our only safe air transport, to deal with the most important logistics for -."

She broke off again as his eyes flashed up to hers, the look in them drying the words in her throat.

"You can't do this," she whispered hoarsely, uncertain, feeling herself hauled to her feet and pulled toward the door, the werewolf keeping pace, keeping the cap clenched in his fist pressed against the side of the Alpha's cheek. "Fealden will straff you."

Her heart ached for the look in the Mackeld's unnaturally still face, and she felt a shot of doubt flash through her. She had never met the little wereem. But - songmate? A werewolf?

She sighed into the wind that side-blasted her when the Alpha wrenched the door open. He murmured, "Sorry," just before he pulled her headset off.

"I hope you find her, you bastard," she growled in answer, knowing he wouldn't be able to hear above the noise. Then she pulled a vicious snarl at him, and jumped.

***

Adam couldn't believe he was doing this. Life was insane.

But at least he was able to do something. Some form of atonement. However dangerous.

Thank-you, Mac.

He squinted his aching, tired eyes into the faint glimmer of light signalling the advent of the sun, focus narrowed on the pale white blur sprinting along a short distance ahead of the chopper's nose, the white wolf streaking, nose-to-ground, along the small road curving between stubbly fields below.

There had been three tracks branching off the road beyond the last small cluster of houses, and the Alpha had just reached the third of them. His nose was almost touching the battered asphalt as he slowed, and carefully checked the trail. Ten yards past the junction, he turned and Adam caught the blare of cold black eyes in the spotlight. Heart hammering, the uneasy novice pilot held a steady course, and felt the jerk as the wolf on the ground leapt to grab the trailing winch cable. The teenager waited a second to make sure that the weight was stable, then pressed the rewind button and breathed a heavy sigh of relief, the tension inside his skull lightening as he pulled back on the control to raise them gently higher, easing above the treetops before the road wound back into the forest.

Adam was still sweating, though, his mind echoing incredulously, despite allowing himself to relax his death-grip. He was flying a real helicopter! This wasn't like his flight simulator, where if you went wrong you had another go. He had only had a brief half-hour of training before his first solo flight, and even now after a whole night of it, he was terrified. Exhilarated.

But the terror was worth it. He wasn't skilled enough to sift out the slightly unusual scent of the specific car they were following from the others which criss-crossed at each junction, but he could follow with the chopper. He could help find Gemma.

Hoarse, heavy breathing rasped to his left, and the sweating, tawny wolf slid into the pilot seat next to him and took over the controls, tipping them forward into speed to trace above the narrow grey strip below. Adam relaxed fully in a surge of relief. Made it once more.

"How far to the next exit?" Mac's voice was barely audible, the words between the sharp, heaving breaths distorted by the piece of Argen from Adam's cap held within one cheek. The werewolf glanced over and watched, fascinated and tense while the wolf spat the fragment of wet metal-woven cloth into his palm and flashed human in the split second that the Argen was flying through the air, before settling back more comfortably into the small seat whose design could only just accommodate a large human, never mind a wolf. Pilot and co-pilot breathed out slightly harder in relief, because once again the Wolflord hadn't caught Mac unshielded, and the wolf casually inserted the Argen back beside his teeth, grimacing slightly at the tingling ache in his jaw.

The werewolf reached down to pull the map back up onto his knees with a trembling hand, idly stroking a palm over the slumbering beagle who was slumped against his feet and snoring. Adam had no idea why the neighbours' dog had been running along a small road in the middle of nowhere, how Mac had found him, or why they had stopped to pick him up, but then, nothing made sense right now anyway. He just followed instructions and hoped.

"About ten miles," Adam answered, walking his fingers across the paper, then he checked the bearing, adding, "Roughly South by East will cut quite a bit off." His hand was waving at the side window, then he bent down to stroke and soothe old Riley again as the helicopter banked sharply to veer off above the treetops.

Nothing had made sense since his attention had been caught by those beautiful, lush curves, the flattering invitation in those amused, cynical eyes. Adam winced inwardly.

He choked back a gulp. Damn the fucking orders echoing in his head; the jangling was quieter now that he was away from his family, and Mac had stopped demanding answers that he'd been forbidden to give. God, he hated her. His hand was on his own head, pressing the cap firmly down against his skull, fingers white with tension.

Then he glanced sideways at the powerful, simmering figure in the pilot's seat and he felt a flash of hope, the first clear hope since he'd fallen like a drooling idiot into the damn bitch's bed.

*

Some time later, as the sun was just beginning to peep through the tops of the trees away to the left, the helicopter suddenly seemed to lurch in mid-air. Adam grabbed at his seat, white-faced while they plummeted toward the ground.

A yelp escaped and he turned frightened, questioning eyes to the figure beside him, thinking they were crashing, then he blinked as he recognised the colossal new seethe of explosive tension barely contained within the coiled frame. He winced away involuntarily from the murderous expression on the wolf's face. Jet black, burning eyes were intently scanning the fields below, and the chopper levelled out just above the ground, swaying dangerously at the abrupt change in angle, then thumped down onto the stubbly earth, skidding haphazardly along on the blades through the slightly damp mud.

Heart pounding in shock, the werewolf heard the screech of the metal door slamming back against the side of the cabin even before the craft stopped moving, and he gaped after the glimpse of white fur already disappearing at incredible speed into the trees at the edge of the field.

Wait for me! he thought belatedly.

Old Riley, whining, was already jumping in a cautious, half-awake stumble down to the ground when Adam lurched into movement after the pair of them. He was caught by his harness, fumbled with the belt buckle, and just managed to swing himself down from the vehicle before the beagle vanished into the trees in the wake of the Alpha, nose to Mac's trail.

*

Zaban's hackles suddenly yanked alert and he spun around, the thick scent of blood landing heavily in his nostrils. Even as he dropped automatically into fighting stance, his eyes widened and heart thudded in shameful fear at the incredible trail of torn bodies being scythed through the vast throng of his wolves waiting to fight among the sparse trees lining the narrow valley. A spray of blood sheeting through the air marked the passage of the intruder descending the small hill just across the gravel road; the path shorn through the warriors was powering straight toward the two cars he was standing beside. The white crest at the forefront was cutting ruthlessly, unstoppably through to the small group hastily transferring from one vehicle to a second, newly charged car.

Zaban's eyes widened with realisation.

"Hurry up!" he barked to the wolves carrying the unconscious wereem, fuming, startled and angry with himself at the struggle it was to pull himself together from starkly frightened awe. How the hell had the Mackeld followed the kidnappers so damn fast? Found them? He could hear and scent the rumble of similar fear running among the ranks stationed waiting in the trees, and the public shame centred him. The stocky, seasoned warrior snapped to full height and began to bark orders, striding forward, calling his koiru into battle-meld.

A new command blasted in from his Warlord, words echoing around his skull, exultant. The Mackeld couldn't defeat a whole army. The Tzo general's blood tingled, his customary impassiveness overlaying the shame: he would have some other news to convey tonight, beyond the mere subjugation of this Alphaless pack.

*

Her scent in his nostrils was tearing at Mac, pulling him on, despite the faint awareness of the insanity of what he was doing. As the scent strengthened when he drew close, a shiver tingled down his spine, settling him back into himself, and he blinked back into sharp focus, awareness of the hordes of wolves teeming across his wider surroundings swamping through his burning brain.

Oh well.

He spun between the dense ranks of his enemies, shearing his way through toward her, brain seeking forward for a way to get them both back out, after he reached her.

Then the scent purring through him cut off to the slam of a heavy door, only the echo lingering in the air. Mac let out a vicious sound of fury - not again, NO! - as he sprang forwards, simply barging the next line of wolves out of his way to burst through and spear his claws into the rear of the accelerating car. There was a frantic roar of the engine as the driver slammed his foot on the gas pedal in terror, an excruciating shriek of claw through metal, and five deep scores shredded across the trunk where he clung, just as seven heavy koiru pounced on the infuriated Alpha.

Mac shifted human, twisting his smaller shape onto his back to escape the hands and arms grasping at his torso and limbs, keeping the fingers of his right hand clamped through the sharp grooves he had made in the body of the trunk. His arm was stretched back over his head while the vehicle began to drag him by his heels along the roadway. Without a moment's pause he flipped off the ground, springing off one leg, flashing back wolf to cut a z-shape through the air and shear a rear claw across two of his pouncing opponents' throats. He finished the twist with his knee clamped chokingly around the neck of a third wolf, cutting off the enemy's breath, then used the purchase from his already collapsing enemy to drive a forth warrior to his knees, breathless and coughing blood from a ruthless, puncturing punch of the Alpha's other foot.

Meanwhile, enemy claws were carving deeply into the arm stretched above his head where he was clinging implacably to the torn truck of car carrying her. Mac head-butted viciously to his right, his head exploding in pain where he smashed his skull into the koiru's teeth. Almost simultaneously his free palm slammed hard onto the wolf's exposed ear, hearing the yelp as he burst the drum while with the rebound he back-struck a further wolf who was attacking from the other side.

Yet still the seventh damn attacker had time to cut the small piece of car body that Mac was clinging to free, a claw screeching through the metal.

The Mackeld and his enemy rolled together in the wake of the accelerating car, Mac howling full-throttle in fury as he downed the last damn idiot, leaping back after the vehicle taking her away just as a second torrent of warriors piled onto him, flattening him momentarily to the earth.

The heap heaved, a tawny figure whirled free and was snatched at by a second ring of wolves that had now closed around the flashing golden-and-white centre.